


Endowment

by Captain_Loki



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Humor, Insecurities, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Loki/pseuds/Captain_Loki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Look, all I know is, junior year when I joined the lacrosse team regularly he…” Boyd huffs, “actively avoided showering while the team was around.” </i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“So, he has a small penis,” Derek says, mulling that information over. Boyd shrugs, claps Derek on the back and says, </i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Sorry dude.” </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Endowment

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of Derek/kate and also warning for Derek wondering if Stiles' insecurities may involve past abuse (they don't)

Derek is worried. It’s not like he’s _new_ to the feeling, or even the feeling where it regards Stiles, really, but he’s never really worried so much about someone not finding him attractive.

Which makes him sound like a douche, he’s acutely aware of that fact. But it’s not like he doesn’t _know_ he’s attractive, so it would just sound pretentious if he humbly pretended otherwise. He’s also pretty sure that Stiles isn’t a blushing virgin, hasn’t been for a while now, and arguably ever, really…well the blushing part anyway. Sure, Stiles was awkward and bumbling in his more formative years at Beacon Hills High but he had _handcuffs_ slung casually around his head board and he once had to explain to a very mortified Scott why everyone was laughing when he kept making ‘snowball’ references without knowing what it was he was agreeing to.

They’ve been dating? That’s probably not the right word for it, when mostly their dates involve sharing a subway foot long on stakeouts at the cemetery before dry humping in the cramped back seat of Derek’s Camaro. But whatever, semantics. The point is though, while Stiles is very enthusiastic about tearing Derek’s clothes off, about getting his hands shoved down the front (or back) of Derek’s pants, about wrapping that frustrating, obscenely hot, obnoxious mouth around Derek’s dick and trying to suck his spine out through the tip…

He barely lets Derek touch him.

Sure they neck like teenagers at every opportunity, they rut against each other anywhere they’re not likely to get caught by the pack or a deputy on patrol, and Stiles has counted ‘frottage’ amongst his favorite words for a reason…

But Derek would just _really_ like to reciprocate.

At first he thinks maybe Stiles is totally not actually all that into him, like he’s doing Derek a favor or something, but he can _smell_ Stiles’ arousal, and he gets himself off with a hand shoved down the front of his jeans when he’s blowing Derek.

Then Derek goes from indignation to worry at it because what if something is really wrong? Like he doesn’t actually trust Derek not to use his werewolf strength on him (and their history is one that still has Derek squirming guiltily over). Then he starts thinking, what if something happened to Stiles? What if him touching him is just a huge uncomfortable trigger, and he _knows_ he was the same way right after…

Derek knows he should just _ask_ but he’s not really sure how to broach that subject and he stares in woeful distain at the card wrack at Target because there really isn’t a section for ‘I was wondering why you won’t let me see your penis.’ He actually considers buying a blank one with a sad faced puppy on it and writing it in himself but he thinks that would be actually ridiculous.

Instead he asks Boyd.

“Why are you telling me this?” Boyd asks, whining petulantly, looking like he wants to slap his hands over his ears in disdain.

“Because you’re my only friend,” Derek points out.

“A job I’m considering resigning from if this is how you treat your friends,” Boyd says. “And I swear if ‘I’m the Alpha’ comes out of your mouth…” Derek scowls, he only said that like that one time, people really need to get over it.

“Maybe he’s self-conscious?” Boyd suggests.

“What? About what?” Derek asks. Boyd rolls his eyes, huffs out a sigh and waves at him.

“Cos you’re—and I’ve seen your,” Boyd gestures miserably towards Derek’s crotch, “it’s pretty…” and he mimes an over exaggerated length.

“You think he has a small penis?” Derek asks.

“I hate everything about you and this conversation,” Boyd nods. “Look, I don’t know, I’ve never seen it, but…” Boyd trails off and Derek raises his brows expectantly.

“Look, all I know is, junior year when I joined the lacrosse team regularly he…” Boyd huffs, “actively avoided showering while the team was around.”

“So, he has a small penis,” Derek says, mulling that information over. Boyd shrugs, claps Derek on the back and says,

“Sorry dude.”

“What? I don’t care about that,” Derek says, indignant. Boyd laughs, “I’ve seen your dildo collection, Derek.” Derek flushes hot and scowls at him, mouth gaping before he snaps it shut.

“Why are you anywhere _near_ my dildo collection?” Derek asks.

“Erica was near your dildo collection, I’m pretty sure you scarred her for life by the way,” Boyd nods.

“We are all _way_ too codependent, this isn’t healthy, even for werewolves,” Derek sighs, stalking out of the room.

__

So, Derek vows to bring it up the next time he sees Stiles, which is a few days later. They have the loft to themselves and they order Chinese and catch the last half hour of a Die Hard on HBO, and he’s pretty sure he’s going about the whole thing wrong because Stiles turns to him suddenly and says,

“Are we breaking up?”

“What! No,” Derek startles, “why would you think that?”

“Because you keep looking at me with this sad constipated expression and the last time that happened you tried to kill a whole bunch of people, so like…maybe breaking up is the better option of those two, but it’d still _suck_.”

“I don’t want to break up,” Derek assures him.

“Good, then pass the egg rolls and stop being weird,” Stiles chastises. Derek sighs, hands over the carton but doesn’t turn away.

“Oh my _God_ , Derek, _what_?” Stiles asks.

“I need to talk to you about something…”

“Herpes?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, but who looks like that if it’s not about something unpleasant, like herpes.”

“I don’t have herpes,” Derek says, frustrated.

“Glad to hear it, steady diet of your jizz and everything it’d be real bummer for me.”

“Oh my G— _Stiles,_ ” Derek sighs, and then, “wait…do _you_ have herpes?” He thinks it would explain some things.

“What! No!” Stiles squawks, outraged.

“Just _asking_ , you brought it up!” Derek says, flushing.

“Then what did you want to talk about?” Stiles asks, gnawing on an eggroll. Derek sighs.

“It’s sort of related…tangentially,” he says.

“To herpes?”

“Stiles.”

“Okay, sorry, continue.”

“Look,” Derek sighs, “I…” Stiles raises his eyebrows at him, egg roll hanging out from his pursed lips.

“Will you get the egg roll out of your mouth?” Derek huffs. Stiles scowls, “why‘s it turnin’ you on?” He asks, coyly, and he starts fellating it. Derek slaps a palm to his face and makes a noise of frustration. Stiles laughs, “Okay, sorry. Continue.”

“I…like you,” Derek says finally. Stiles glances around the room without moving a muscle. Derek sighs.

“I like you too?”

“Do you?” Derek asks, and he can’t rid it of the petulant accusation it is. Stiles deflates suddenly and Derek hates himself. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly.

“Is this about…” Stiles says, gesturing towards himself. Derek doesn’t see the point in beating around the bush so he nods.

“Uh, yeah…I just don’t understand,” he admits. Stiles leans forward and puts the carton of takeout onto the coffee table and stands up, fidgeting nervously.

“I know it’s…it’s just that,” Stiles sighs.

 “Look, I think I know why you’re self-conscious and it’s okay, really, I’m not gonna…dump you or something. It’s fine, you don’t have to feel awkward about your… _size_ ,” Derek emphasizes. He can hear Stiles’ heart pounding in his chest now and his face is flushed bright red and Derek feels kinda bad about it.

“It’s just that I’ve had some not so great experiences with people and my…umm…” Stiles huffs out an awkward laugh and runs a hand through his hair.

“Well, people are dicks,” Derek says emphatically. Stiles’ eyes widen slightly and they both pause for a moment before cracking up. Derek runs a hand over his face and looks up at where Stiles is watching him.

“Look, Stiles, I know most of our relationship has been pretty physical, even before we started fooling around but, I don’t want you to think I only care about you for that.”

“I know, Derek, I just, I like you too and,” Stiles shakes his head, moves to sit on the coffee table in front of Derek. “It’s—well I dated…well no I slept with,” Stiles amends, “a couple of people because my _reputation_ preceded me and while it’s kind of flattering or whatever on the one hand and everything it still kind of sucked to know that’s all they cared about.” Derek blinks a couple of times while the sentence processes and he cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“What?” Stiles asks, heart blipping again.

“I don’t…” They stare at each other for a long awkward moment before realization dawns on both of them.

“Oh, no, I mean…that’s what you meant by ‘size’?” Stiles asks.

“So you’re…” Derek asks, mouth gone a little dry, trying not to let his gaze linger on Stiles’ denim clad crotch. He fails pretty miserably and Stiles snaps his fingers in his face.

“Hey, I’m up here!”

“Sorry!” Derek says, meaning it. “So you’re afraid you’re too…”

“Big?” Stiles finishes, flushing. 

“Like how big?” Derek asks.

“Like… _big,_ ” Stiles shrugs, embarrassed.

“Like pass out when you get an erection big?” Derek asks.

“What? No?” Stiles scowls. “Like, the first time I lost my virginity the girl _cried_ and _bled_! It was traumatizing,” Stiles cries. Derek looks up at him.

“Well, that’s not very descriptive, she was a _virgin_ ,” Derek tells him.

“No, _I_ was a virgin!”

“Oh.”

“I’ve gotten _cold calls from porn companies_.”

“Do they even do that?” Derek asks in disbelief.

“Apparently they do when you sleep with their models!”

Derek snorts.

“No, you don’t understand, Derek!” Stiles cries, waving his arms, “one girl…she was totally awesome too, like she was a pottery student and she threw like really awesome bowls and stuff and like wore these skinny jeans all the ti—“ he trails off and shakes his head, “—and she _ran awa_ y!”

“Ran away?” Derek asks.

“That’s not even an exaggeration for dramatic retelling, I mean, full on _ran_. _Away_. Like pulled my pants down, got a good look at my dick and she _FLED_!” There’s a maniac glint in Stiles’ eye and Derek has to press his hand to his mouth to keep from laughing.

“I never even saw her again! I’m pretty sure she transferred, Derek!” Stiles is yelling at him, face indignant. “My dick made _her transfer_ , Derek.”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic,” Derek says.

“I’m trying to protect you,” Stiles tells him, covering his crotch up with his hands.

“That’s very noble of you Stiles, but, I think my delicate senses will be just fine,” Derek says, leaning back in his seat. Stiles’ eyes drift towards Derek’s spread legs, and the erection currently pushing against the front of his jeans.

“So, can I see it?” Derek asks.

“Well, now you have expectations,” Stiles says, despondently, palming at himself. “What if it’s shy?”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek sighs. Stiles rises and moves to stand in front of Derek’s spread legs. He tugs his t-shirt off over his head and brings Derek’s hands up, until they’re resting against his hips and the edge of his jeans. Then he waves at him in a very ‘if you must’ kind of way before he presses his palms to his face.

“Stop being adorable, Stiles,” Derek says, tilting his head up to look at him. Stiles flicks him on the ear playfully as Derek undoes his jeans before tugging them and his boxer briefs down at once, until he finally, _finally_ , gets at Stiles’ cock, twitching in front of him. He’s thicker than Derek, even, and at least eight inches, curving slightly to the left and cut.

“Not running away,” Derek informs him.

“Not fully hard yet,” Stiles informs _him_.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’d like to think I can _rise_ to the challenge,” Derek says.

“Oh wow, Derek, really?” Stiles balks, palming at his hair. Derek smirks at him before taking Stiles into his mouth, stretching wide to accommodate him. It’s a little sloppy, messy and wet with the spit that Derek accumulates with nowhere to go but everywhere. Stiles gathers at it though, spreads it across Derek’s lips as he pulls off. It’s not long until his jaw aches but Stiles is panting above him, thrusting.

“Hey so, like I know we haven’t really talked about it but…” Stiles tries, and Derek pulls off so he can get his breath back. “My experience with guys is really only limited to like two dudes and while I’d probably consider myself verse if it came down to it I…” Stiles sighs, stares down at Derek with trepidation.

“You prefer…” Derek prompts, looking up at him hopefully.

“Topping?” Stiles pulls a face nervously and Derek huffs out a laugh, kisses and sucks at the head of Stiles’ dick.

“Great, because I bottom pretty exclusively and I needed your dick in my ass like _yesterday,_ ” Derek assures him.

“Oh good,” Stiles nods, he pushes Derek back against the couch and climbs into his lap. “So, you really don’t have herpes though right?”

“Stiles!”


End file.
